


The Daughter and the Raven

by sootiesweep



Series: The Hall of the Anaman Fuar [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Dís Feels, Family Feels, Family Member Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Parent Dís, Young Fíli and Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootiesweep/pseuds/sootiesweep
Summary: Inspired by the works of Professor J.R.R Tolkien, set during and around the time of the Battle of the Five Armies.The day that Dís - Daughter of Thráin, Sister of Thorin, Mother of Fíli and Kíli - learned of her kin’s fate.
Relationships: Balin & Dís (Tolkien), Dís & Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Oakenshield, Dís & Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien)
Series: The Hall of the Anaman Fuar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114337
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	The Daughter and the Raven

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official work :)  
> It’s also available on Wattpad. I’m @sootiesweep there, and @sootie.sweep for my editing account on Instagram!
> 
> This references my original setting in places, a setting for which I am creating a series. You can find a small teaser trailer for this - “The Hall of the Anaman Fuar” - on my Instagram :D
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated - I really hope you enjoy! :,)

There were two days of silence; two days before word reached the mountains. Soon the silence became unbearable. The prospect of their kin's ill fate loomed over Ered Luin, a dark and solemn air engulfing the hills - as if its people were already mourning the unforetold losses. The occasional merchant had offered what they knew, the tradesmen anticipating this precious word more than, perhaps, the goods for which they had first requested. "The dragon is dead!" The people cried, and a burst of elation spread through the halls. Songs of old were sung wholeheartedly, foaming drinks poured, tales told among children. Legends of the lost kingdom, at long last back in their hands.

But now...  
Silence.

It wasn't long before the joyous festivities and celebrations faded gradually from the halls. Even those with utmost mirth during the earlier nights now replaced their grins with the most sombre of faces. The warm lights began to dim and putter, cold beginnings of winter shuddering through their flame - and as winter replaced autumn, so too did a heavy anticipation replace the relief and happiness of before... for troubling whispers had spread from the East.

_The Orcs are gathering,_  
_From mountains high._  
_They march for Erebor,_  
_Swords to the sky._  
_Our brothers are rallying,_  
_Our kingdom regained -_  
_But now clouds are gathering,_  
_The land to be stained._

The lament rumbled through the stone, bringing with it dark, burdened rumours.  
However, before long, even rumours had ceased. Ered Luin was in the dark.

The familiar, thick, annual snow of winter carpeted the trees, shadowed clouds draping over the mountains from above. Already at the edge of the world, the Blue Mountains seemed unreachable: an uncharacteristic, frosty gloom appearing to create a barrier between them and the rest of Eriador. Heads hung low, the once hopeful dwarves returned to their busy work. They became fixated on their tasks deep in the hills, for it provided distraction and normality - something that now seemed as precious as the beautiful creations they sported. Indeed, many gilded treasures were fashioned that winter.

The forests all but neglected, no one was there to notice the raven.

***

  
It flew silent through the clouds.  
In its claw it held an object - a small one, hidden from sight by the weathered (yet recently written) letter, in which it was neatly wrapped.  
In angled runes, the paper read, "The Daughter..."

The bird's wings carved swiftly through the mist, crystals of frost coating its broad feathers.

_Although we have not laid eyes for many seasons past, I now earnestly regret my only letter being this... and in these times._

It descended slightly, now flying just above the tapered, mountainous crowns of trees.

_We are victorious, some say. The orcs are slain, the worms driven back, their leaders dead. But at what price?_

Its sharp eyes soon find a distinctive, circular clearing. She'll be here.

_At too dear a price. Although aided by men and elves alike, we were no match for the unyielding onslaught of our enemy._

The royal creature tilted its head forward, and began an elegant, circling descent towards the figure sitting at the edge of the ice.

_We lost so many, Dís._  
_Too many._

Dís raised her blue-hooded head as the raven's claws scattered the snow by her side. The messenger - wings outstretched - bowed its head, in return to the Daughter's. They shared a long moment of quiet.

She dreaded the contents of the letter. Whatever it contained was surely not fair news. Why else would this Raven - descendant of Carc of Ravenhill, no doubt - have flown the length of all known land, to drop this message at her feet? Where was her father, to welcome such a delivery?  
  
Any dim light that Dís had achingly kept aglow for her kin this past year finally diminished. There was surely no hope now. The events etched into that paper had already passed... and she could do nothing to change that. As the harrowing realisation dawned, Thorin's sister raised her head to meet the pale sun. She knew that the news in that letter was inevitable. She knew that she would not be the same after that knowledge was passed into her, the ink becoming one with her blood. She also knew that, either way, word would float downstream. The tradesmen would ride through the towns, carrying more than just their barter on their tired backs - for they carry heavy sorrows in their heart. And by tomorrow's eve, so would every member of Ered Luin. But here, now, it is quiet. Here, time is not the same as it is out there - out in the vast, violent world. And here, she could wait.

And so, heartbreaking prospects within hand's reach, she preserved her soul for a few, precious moments more.

***

  
Eyes closed, Dís thought of her family. The cool light of winter's sun cast a sparkling glow over the snow, which she clenched in her hands, feeling its cold as the crystals slowly melted through her fingers. She used to bring them here; her sons. Their eyes used to widen, mesmerised, as she told them of the ice, of the ancestors. And then she would lunge forward suddenly, both boys embarrassed at their fright. _"I'm not scared"_ , Kíli would pout, to which his elder brother Fíli would grin, eyebrows raised teasingly (although secretly recovering from the scare himself), and ruffle a handful of Kíli's dark hair.  
  
_"Oh really?"_ their mother would reply, scooping them round their waists and both up onto her lap, despite their efforts to scramble away. _"How about... NOW?"_ she retorted dramatically, as she began to tickle them relentlessly, her little boys' uncontrollable giggling filling the clearing and rising to the sky.

***

The mother opened her eyes to the same sky now....  
But there was no laughter. No young lads sitting, wide-eyed in front of her - and in their place stood the black raven, parcel now waiting in its beak. She smiled forlornly as the bird hesitantly bowed its head towards her lap, delicately placing its delivery into her cupped hands. It was time.

Dís' heart lurched sickeningly as she held the object. The package was cold in her palm, and its shape only too familiar. The weight of it molded naturally into her hand, its round edge fitting comfortably - she had made it, after all. All emotion was stripped from her then, her heart aching, as she slowly unwrapped the parcel.

_Too many, Dís._  
_Your father... your brother..._

And there it was. Sitting in her lap, in the centre of Balin's letter, was the stone.   
Silently, she ran her cold fingertips over the engraved runes, the ghost of an old promise echoing in her mind.

_...your sons._

_Innikh dê..._  
_return to me._


End file.
